


The Snake, The Stall, and The U-Bend

by RobynEJeffrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobynEJeffrey/pseuds/RobynEJeffrey
Summary: Myrtle Warren's day leading up to her death.





	The Snake, The Stall, and The U-Bend

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wrote this chapter in 2011 when I was in Grade 11, so do be kind. It was originally going to be a whole series but I gave up on it and now it's a one-shot. I was really proud of the ending. This is being posted because a few friends have asked about it. Sorry in advance.

Stupid Olive Hornby and her stupid face and her stupid jokes and her stupid… stupidness. What did I ever do to her? Why am _I_ always the victim of her ridicule? Why don’t any of my friends stand up for me? I have three, and you’d think that after _they_ get made fun of, they’d know what it’s like and help the next target. But nooooo! My mother always taught me that you drive away the bullies with numbers. No, not like math, like groups.

My Mum is a muggle teacher for children in third grade. They always get little speeches and presentations on bullying and drugs and alcohol and such. ‘Tell someone! Be there for someone else! It’ll help you in the long run!’ I’ve done it. I’ve told Professor Dumbledore about that dumb Slytherin and her dumb insults. He’s spoken with her but it only makes it worse for me because none of my friends will help. They’re too frightened of her. I suppose she can be quite scary but that’s no reason to give up on your best friends, right?

I walked out of Ravenclaw Tower like every morning and went down to the Great Hall. I had gotten new glasses sent to me by my father, an Optometrist, just the evening before. When I approached the opening into the Great Hall, I noticed my three friends (two from Hufflepuff, one from Gryffindor) huddled at the Hufflepuff table.

“Hey, guys,” I said, trying to emphasize my awesome new glasses.

“Hi, Myrtle,” Fawn James, a Hufflepuff with long, light brown hair, turned to me. Fawn was very pretty but didn’t talk very often. She didn’t like the skirts that we had to wear as part of our uniforms and she blushed at the slightest embarrassment. Her smile faltered as she spoke.

“What’s up?” I asked, a little concerned.

“We’d been thinking about how we’re all being treated lately,” Marcus Hyde, the other Hufflepuff said to me, as I sat down. Marcus was a prefect, being in fifth year, a year older than us. He was very tall and very blonde.

At that moment, the cutest boy in the school walked by. He was completely out of everyone’s league but that didn’t stop us from admiring.

“Hi, Tom,” I smiled as he walked by.

The Slytherin turned and looked me straight in the eye before walking away, without a word.

_Oh my wizard God, he looked at me_ , I thought _._

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking about it as well,” I went back to my regular attitude, turning back to the trio.

“Right. We wanted to tell you that, well, we just don’t think that,” Marcus stammered.

Ophelia Mayweather, a Gryffindor with short black hair decided to chime in. “We’re kicking you out of the group. We never wanted you in it in the first place.”

“Excuse Me?” I asked, extremely offended. “And why, may I ask, not?”

Fawn whispered at Ophelia. “You didn’t have to say it so rudely. Myrtle, I know you’re a great person and all, but we think that the reason that we’re being bullied by Olive and her friends is because of you.”

“Maybe because you’re a Muggle-born,” Ophelia said.

“But... Marcus is a Muggle-born,” I interjected. I couldn’t believe that this was happening. My own best friends were turning on me, making it even harder to go through life.

“Marcus is nice-looking and older than Olive. Marcus can get through a day without moaning about something.”

That one hurt. I got up and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, tears threatening to spill onto my food. I could distantly hear Fawn trying to call me back over but everything was moving far, far away, into the back of my mind.

One of the seventh year girls turned to me and asked me if I was okay. I nodded my head and went to class early, without much of a breakfast.

During Transfiguration, I was still upset and apparently my sobbing was disruptive and Professor Dumbledore asked me if I needed to leave the room.

“Miss Warren, if you must, pull yourself together in the hall and come back when you feel up to the task of learning.”

I heaved myself off of my seat and went into the corridor. I sat down on the floor and cried for a while, wondering if life could get any worse.

A first year came trotting down the hallway and asked me if I was hurt.

“No, Poppy, I’m fine, thank you,” I looked up at her with tear-blurred vision.

“I’m very good at healing charms, you know. I could help you if you got a boo-boo.”

“I’m _fine_ , Poppy,” I said with a little more aggression.

She looked at me like she was frightened and ran back the way she’d come.

After I’d calmed down a bit, I went back inside. Class had almost finished. After, I walked out of the classroom and I bet you could guess who was there. The devil herself, Olive Hornby.

“Hey, Mudblood, nice glasses,” she snarled.

“You’re just jealous,” I said to myself.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you over how much of a failure you are,” she smiled. All of her stupid friends laughed with her.

I dropped my books and started running towards the second-floor washroom. It was the nicest, in my opinion. I began to cry again and just as I was about to open the door, I heard a loud voice above me.

“Hi, Myrtle,” Rubeus Hagrid said to me. I could just barely see a blush under the mane that he called hair.

“Hello, Hagrid,” I said, shortly.

“Uhmm… I was just wondering if you wanted to come and see something that I found in the woods. I wanted to show someone and I thought that I would confide in you.”

_You’re a year younger than me, you’re a mess at all times, and you’re FLIRTING with me. Something is wrong with this picture,_ I had thought.

“Is it a bug?” I asked, making a disgusted face.

“A little,” he said quietly, looking at his enormous feet.

“You’re killing me, Hagrid. You know I hate bugs,”

“Sorry,” he said and walked away, back down the hall.

Little did I know, he _was_ killing me that day.


End file.
